


You Love All This Attention, Don't You

by cryme_anocean



Series: All the Things He is and isn't [5]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Blink and you'll miss it slut shaming, Fluffy, Jealousy, M/M, Mickey thinking he's ugly, Swearing, discussion of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-05
Updated: 2014-07-05
Packaged: 2018-02-07 13:03:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1899981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryme_anocean/pseuds/cryme_anocean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your face almost becomes someone I don't know. A Mickey you would have been without all this Terry bullshit. And that's a Mickey I love as much as this Mickey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Love All This Attention, Don't You

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd

"I fuckin said no; not my fault you only hear what you want to hear, Gallagher."

" _No_ , you said you'd think about it."

"You asked me as you were pulling your dick from my ass. I'll tell you anything you want to hear then."

"Whatever. I already told everyone you'd be there."

"Ian, where the hell do you get that it would be a good idea to bring your Southside trash boyfriend-"

" _Husband_ ,"

"to a North bankers' golfing thing?"

Ian stares at Mickey for a long time before huffing, "Please? I'm Southside trash, too, so what makes you think I wanna go? At least with your commentary, I'll be entertained."

"Please, trash my ass, Firecrotch. You fit in with the rich, boring guys. I don't even _look_  the part. So like fuck I'm gonna put myself in that situation."

"I'll suck your dick whenever you want." "

You'll fucking do that anyway."

Ian groans and rolls over on top of him. "Mickey I really need you there. I can't last that long with a bunch of stuffy, A-list bastards."

"Well when you put it that way, definitely fucking no."

"I'll never bug you about anything you deem gay ever again."

Mickey thinks about. "Still no."

-

"When is it?"

"When is what?"

"The stupid golf… thing."

"One… you coming?"

"Wipe that grin off your face. As if I'd let you convert to some Northside banker. The hell you take me for?" Ian grins.

-

Yeah, this was the worst idea he's ever had, and he's had some pretty shitty ones (i.e. Marrying Svetlana, letting Ian leave, taking weed from Gary because that asshole has the worst quality weed he's ever taken). He's standing under the shade of a tree in cargo shorts he didn't even know he owned until Ian pulled them out and a button-up white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Ian was actually playing. Mickey sucks at sports, though, so he definitely wasn't.

"You not participating, either?" Mickey glances over at whoever the fuck just approached him. Blonde curls are draped over green eyes and Mickey thinks that if Ian wasn't the prettiest man he'd ever seen, this guy would take the title. He's in dark wash jeans and a red band shirt which makes Mickey feel a little better because at least he's not the worst dressed here.

"Nah man, I suck at this shit."

"Yeah, my dad's the guy who set this up. Dragged me from the slums to take me here with my mom and younger brother. Apparently we're here tonight as the picture perfect family."

Mickey scoffs, "Right 'cause those exist."

The guy huffs a laugh, "Exactly what I said. I'm Jonah, by the way."

"Mickey,"

"So, what's a guy like you doing all alone over here?"

"The fuck that supposed to mean?" Mickey raises his eyebrow because either this guy just insulted the fuck outta him or he's hitting on him. Mickey is not okay with either.

"Just, you're hot. Can't believe no one's over here hitting on you or, ya know, staking their claim."

Mickey just blinks at him because he doesn't get hit on. His boyfriend— _husband_ , Jesus, Mickey—gets hit on, but he's pretty. He's pretty and of course people see that. Mickey is… an acquired taste. He's rough and dirty and he's not the best looking.

"I'm sorry if that's too forward, but you really are."

"Um… not really, though." He snorts a little self-deprecating laugh.

"When was the last time you looked in a mirror? You're freaking gorgeous." Mickey should hit this guy. He's _married_ —wait, fuck, for real?—and it shouldn't feel good to be hit on. He should feel upset. But he's not. It's not like Ian's telling him how hot or attractive he finds him. It's normally like _"You look so hot like this, all spread out and begging for my cock."_ but not like compliments. And he _would_  punch Gallagher if he called him gorgeous or hot because that makes him feel weird and vulnerable and he has to show that he's _not_. But hell if it doesn't feel good to be assured that he's not ugly because sometimes—not that he's admitting it or anything—he feels ugly.

"Who're you here with?"

"His fuckin husband." There's a tight hand around his forearm and nails pressing into skin enough to make him bleed.

Jonah holds his hands up in surrender because Ian looks like he's about to jump this guy and Mickey, for a quick second, thinks back to when Ian was manic. "Shit man, I didn't know. He didn't say anything." And now Mickey knows he's in trouble because the hand that was possessively claiming him now tightens as if Ian just wants to break his arm.

"We're leaving." Ian hisses into his ear before yanking him to their shitty car.

Mickey stumbles a little, "I can explain, Ian, just wai-"

"Shut up and get in."

-

They don't speak the rest of the ride home. Ian's knuckles are white on the wheel and his breathing is a little off. And while Mickey is a little concerned about himself, he's more worried about Ian because he seems really distracted and he's _driving_. The second they get back to their apartment, Ian commands, "Get out."

"The car's still on." He protests because he doesn't understand.

"Get out." Ian repeats and Mickey knows he won't again. Mickey's breath hitches and he climbs out of the car, waiting for Ian to get out. Ian doesn't. Mickey waits. The car runs but Ian hasn't left yet. It finally shuts off and Ian slams the door behind him, causing Mickey to flinch a little internally.

"The fuck is your issue?"

Ian laughs humorlessly, " _My_  problem? You let some guy flirt with you. We're fucking _married_ , Mickey."

"Fuck off."

"What? You don't like that? You don't _want_ to be married anymore? You're the one who asked."

"Shit, what the fuck? I didn't–the fuck did that leave my mouth? I didn't say that. Fuckin drama queen."

"Fuck you, Mickey. I don't know why the hell you wanted to get married if you were just gonna get bored a few months in."

"Like _hell_  I got bored! I didn't ask that guy to flirt with me." "You didn't ask him _not_  to!"

"Fuck you, man! I couldn't help it."

"Oh really? You liked it, then? You liked it that that guy liked you? You want him to fuck you, Mickey? Because go ahead. I'm done."

"Shut up. You are not. Get back here." Ian's hand is on the door. "He called me hot." Mickey doesn't yell it at him. Mickey doesn't. He just speaks it normally and that seems to have been more surprising to Ian than a loud voice.

"So fucking what?"

"He called me gorgeous."

"Okay, again, what's your fucking point?"

Mickey shrugs. He's embarrassed to admit it out loud. Like how the great Mickey Milkovich—Gallagher now—has fallen.

"You liked it?" Mickey shrugs again but thankfully Ian can read him. "I call you hot."

"During sex."

"You don't want me to say it during the day. Or at all, really."

"Look, I know I'm not the best looking but sometimes, it's nice to hear that your… that the person you're spending your life with thinks you're hot."

Ian's silent for a long time. His hand falls from the car and then he's walking up to the apartment. Mickey follows. Ian is sitting on the couch with his head in his hands, heels dug into his eyes, and Mickey just sits awkwardly on the other couch. Finally Ian takes a breath and starts, "You don't think you're attractive."

It's not a question so Mickey doesn't answer. Or maybe it is but he doesn't want to confirm it.

"You don't think you're attractive and the guy called you attractive and you liked it. You liked it so much you forgot you're married to me."

"I didn't… forget, Ian."

"You didn't mention it." Mickey is silent. Ian goes on. "You don't think you're attractive and because I never say you are, you didn't mention that you're married to the guy who  _did_ call you attractive." Mickey's silence must count as confirmation because then Ian raises his head and his eyes are read and angry.

He huffs and looks away awkwardly because this is weird.

"Look at me." He sounds broken. He does as he asks.

Ian takes a breath, "Your hair is always slicked back when we're in public, but it's my favorite when you just wake up after a post sex nap. You look wrecked."

Mickey's breath hitches as he realizes what Ian's going to do.

"You have these long eyelashes and they're so dark, almost like a girls. They make your eyes look bigger. Your eyes are my favorite. So blue sometimes I wanna drown in them.

"Your nose. Fuck. When we're fucking slow and gentle like I know you secretly love, you'll skim it against me and I love it.

"Your mouth is the best. You claimed you'd rip my tongue out if I kissed you, but you kissed me. That's when I think I really appreciated your mouth. I mean, I appreciate it when it's on my dick, but it's so much more when I can kiss you.

"Your neck and your chest are my absolute favorite to kiss. You're so sensitive. So responsive.

"I love your stomach. Soft so when I shift in the night you're not hard like some guys.

"Your dick. It's beautiful. Flushed against your stomach, bobbing when you ride me like a slut, so red and warm and leaky at the tip; I always want to tease you.

"Your legs, Jesus, your legs. Those few moments before you slide your boxers on after getting out of bed in the morning are my favorite. They flex and you shuffle and you're so beautiful like that. So unguarded and vulnerable and I don't think you realize it. You always look your best when you're naked like that.

"Your ass, though, is my second favorite. Not because I like to shove my dick up there, though that's a bonus. Your ass is so round and perfect that I actually want to grope you every time I see it. You hide it behind baggy jeans but that first time I got you naked and you were getting so impatient, wanting me to get on you, I was staring at you. Because you were beautiful like that, too, Mick.

"But do you know when you are the most beautiful?"

That's a question. He shakes his head and this feels so gay and he's afraid. He's afraid and uncomfortable because this isn't him.

"You're most beautiful—because you _are_  beautiful—in moments like these. When you're so uncomfortable but you're getting exactly what you wanted. You hate this emotional bullshit but you love it. You look so open and pliant and your face almost becomes someone I don't know. A Mickey you would have been without all this Terry bullshit. And that's a Mickey I love as much as this Mickey. You look beautiful when you're right here in between them. When you're feeling so disgusted by how _gay_  this is but so satisfied at all this attention.

"You love all this attention, don't you, Mickey?"

Mickey won't answer but Ian knows he's right.

**Author's Note:**

> I am looking for a beta so if you're interested would you let me know? Reach me on my profile or on tumblr at anoldmarriedcouple. Please let me know what you think.


End file.
